Revenge is Actually a 5 Dollar Box from Popeyes
by keriababe2010
Summary: If revenge is supposed to be a dish best served cold, then why is she the one left cold and empty on the inside?  After the death of Howe, Amalah Cousland feels nothing at all, and she can't understand why.


They're finally out of the goddamn dungeons and Amalah is tired. She's more than tired. There was a bone deep exhaustion that ate at her, refusing to let her find any joy at having completed their mission, freeing the queen from that son of a bitch Howe's clutches.

Bastard finally got what he deserved.

She finally was able to avenge her family, give them the peace they deserve. She killed that bastard in cold blood and she'd do it all over again if she had to. She knew that she would never find closure unless he died at her blade. So then, why is there a sense of apathy tugging at her senses? She doesn't feel at peace, she just feels...empty. Was all that was driving her to move forward was her need for revenge? Does she have anything left to keep her going? The realization that she doesn't startles her, leaves her reeling.

She stumbles slightly as the world shifts and blurs. She's far too numb to anything but the cold realization that's gripped her to notice the concerned look that Alistair shoots her.

She doesn't remember the person she was before her revenge.

"-malah?"

Is someone saying something? She can't tell. The world feels a million miles away and it's becoming a struggle to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. But she keeps going. Can't ever stop moving forward. Need to press on.

She's determined to leave this hellhole under her own power - even if it hurts, even if she can't breathe for the suffocating feeling that she can't remember who she is - so she's completely surprised when she runs into a solid chest and almost falls on her ass. Warm hands catch her and help her keep her balance, and she looks into the warm amber eyes of Alistair, who's looking at her with so much concern and love that it breaks her almost immediately.

The world spins violently and she collapses in Alistair's arms.

She hasn't said a word since they left the palace, and it's setting off five different alarms in Alistair's head. His love was always talking, if not to him than one of their companions. She always had some advice to give or even just a funny quip, but now she's totally silent and he's worried. She just killed the man that killed her family and while he knew that she wouldn't be her usual self after something like that, he didn't expect her to be so...disconnected.

He tries calling out to her. No response.

So now he's more than worried. Right. Okay. No time to panic. Time for plan B.

He steps in front of her, hoping that she'll notice and acknowledge the world outside of whatever personal hell she's in. She runs into him and almost falls instead. On instinct, he reaches out to steady her, and when he catches the look in her eyes, he feels his heart breaking in two.

The look in her eyes is completely vacant. It chills him to the bone and he wants to take her away from here and never come back. She looks up at him, and he didn't think it was possible but his heart breaks even further as the vacant look in her eyes shifts to one of such agony that it hurts him to look at her. He tries to say something, anything, but her eyes roll to the back of her head and he has to catch her from hitting the ground as she collapses.

Well, now, it's definitely time to panic.

The others -- Morrigan and Leliana -- are immediately on alert, and filled with concern.

Leliana rushes over to them and checks Amalah for unnoticed injuries. "Was she more injured than she let on? What happened?" She looks at Alistair for answers, but it's hard to vocalize what he saw in Amalah in those few minutes.

"Obviously, she has spread herself too thin. Now step aside and let me heal our dear Warden."

For once, he's grateful for Morrigan's domineering attitude, but he doesn't think that it'll work. It's not a physical injury that's keeping Amalah unconscious but he's desperate and terrified enough to let her try anyway.

Morrigan performs the spell, and they all await anxiously for Amalah to open her eyes and continue on.

Nothing happens.

Morrigan's eyes are wide in surprise, and Leliana gasps in fear.

He has to tell them.

"I, um, I don't think it's anything physical keeping her unconscious. She - I don't think she wants to be awake currently. I think - it hurts too much for her to be awake."

The admission tears at him. All he wants is to be able to protect her always, but there's no way to protect her from her own fears and pain. All he can do is be there for here, and let her know that she's loved.

"What exactly do you mean by that, Alistair?"

Leliana is looking at him with furrowed brows, and he takes a deep breath and tries to explain what exactly he saw when he looked at Amalah.

"When she looked at me, she - she wasn't here. Her body is here, obviously, but I couldn't see any of the woman I love when I looked in her eyes. She was already far gone. We need to get back to camp until we figure out exactly what it is that's hurting her so deeply."

Morrigan sighs. "And here I thought I'd never see the day where I'd actually agree with you, but I guess miracles do happen."

Alistair just rolls his eyes in response. "Anyway, we should get going before daylight is over."

He cradles Amalah closer to his chest, presses a kiss to her clammy forehead, and starts walking.

They're finally back at camp, and everyone is immediately alert at the sight of Amalah being cradled against Alistair, completely unconscious.

Wynne is the first to rush over, apprehension written all over her face. "Does she need healing? What happened?"

Alistair sighs. "It's..rather complicated." He goes on to explain everything that happened in the dungeons and their subsequent escape from said dungeons. As he's talking, he notices that Wynne's features are painted with compassion and understanding but the fear and worry is still buried under there.

He has to ask. "You know what's happened to her, don't you?"

She smiles sadly at him and nods. "When the mind is under great peril, it will do everything it can to protect itself, even if it means shutting down. Her body and mind were under so much pressure that she couldn't handle it anymore, and so fell unconscious."

Alistair takes in a shaky breath, and tries to lighten the mood. "Good to know. Not reassuring in the slightest, but at least the suspense is gone. Too dramatic for my tastes."

He knows he's not fooling anyone if the look Wynne is giving him is any indication.

"Do not fear, dearheart. She will awaken. It is only temporary, however, this is not something that I or any of the others can help with. She needs you most of all."

This time the smile Wynne gives him is less troubled and the relief he feels is enough to bring him to his knees.

"Right. I'm gonna go now. I'll stay with her, I promise."

It'll take an arch-demon to move him from her side.

Everyone knows that he and Amalah are together, but he still feels a blush rise to his face as he crosses camp and enters her tent. He shouldn't still be so embarrassed -- they've spent the night together and there's no way everyone doesn't know about that, they were pretty loud after all -- but there's something intimate about being in Amalah's space that makes him bashful.

Nevertheless, he's here to make sure his love can find the rest she needs and deserves and he won't let his own reticence get in the way of that. He lays her down, and goes about getting her out of her armor, and if his face is as red as her hair then that's his business and no one else's.

She's still so stunning to him, her brown skin reflecting the moonlight, giving her an ethereal glow, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say that she was simply sleeping. But there's a tightness across her brow, and a shallow quality to her breaths that lets him know that everything is far from peaceful. There's grime and dirt all over her body and it pains him to know that she'd hate the state she was in if she were aware of it, and the thought is enough to make him grab a washcloth and a pail of water and try to get rid of what he can.

He hopes it's enough.

After he's done, he removes his own armor, and settles in next to her and braces himself for a long vigil. He presses a lingering kiss to her temple, and whispers his love for her and prays that she knows, that she hears him.

He stays awake for as long as he can, but eventually exhaustion takes its toll, and he falls into a fitful sleep.


End file.
